


Milk Duds

by bpdcerberus



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, soulmate aus, this is super stupid and like. 1 of 3 prokopinsky soulmate fics im gonna write lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdcerberus/pseuds/bpdcerberus
Summary: Whatever mark you get on your skin your soulmate gets it too. This includes writing, abrasions, cuts, bruises. Joseph Kavinsky's soulmate sure likes to doodle on their arm, and Aleksandre Prokopenko's soulmate sure does get hurt a lot.





	

Joseph Kavinsky had always watched the lines appear on his arms as he sat in class. He wished his soulmate wouldn’t draw on his arms as much as he did, but it was nice to watch when they did.

Lines swirled up and down Joseph’s arms making circles and squares and smiling faces and trees. Whoever was doing this really had a bad case of restless mind. Little smiley faces would appear on his right arm, along with hearts. Sometimes notes would be scribbled messily on Joseph’s hand. Today was ‘get milk’ in all caps on his left. It had been scrawled hastily when Joseph was eating breakfast when he saw the lines begin to appear. He smiled at the words as he zoned out of the math lesson. He got his sharpie out of his bookbag, writing ‘duds’ under ‘milk’ in all caps, trying to copy the handwriting.

Later that day after school, he noticed words beginning to form right under where he wrote ‘duds’. 

‘Very funny asshole’ was written on his wrist next to a smiley face.

‘Assholery is my specialty’ Joseph wrote just below that.

‘Nice to know.’ The person wrote back. Joseph smiled.

+++

Aleksandre Prokopenko sometimes woke up to bruises on his arms or scars of cuts that hadn’t yet healed on his soulmate. Most days he wrote cute drawings or notes on his wrists so his soulmate had something nice to look at instead of the lines on his wrist.

Today was a faint bruise and a scarred scrape on his cheek. He looked in the mirror that morning, hoping the person who was really bearing this injury was alright.

He walked downstairs for breakfast, dodging around the boxes of his family's belongings. They were soon moving to Henrietta, Virginia for his father's work.

He grabbed the Cheerios from the cabinet and opened the fridge. “Dangit.” Aleksandre grabbed a sharpie, writing ‘GET MILK’ on his left hand.

+++

Just after the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, Aleksandre walked down to the grocery store. He stopped for a moment. 

“What did I need again?” He muttered to himself, trying to remember if he wrote it down some- oh right!

“Milk Duds? I hate Milk Duds.” He murmured, confused. Then it clicked. He drew the sharpie from his pocket, scribbling a smiley face and ‘very funny asshole’. Aleksandre walked towards the refrigerated section, picking up a half gallon and beginning to walk home. As he did, he looked down at his hand again, seeing more words written there. He couldn’t help but smile.

‘Nice to know.’ He wrote, drawing a little face with it’s tongue sticking out.

+++

"Good morning class." The teacher's voice boomed through the classroom. An ad-lib drone of 'Good morning, Mr. Carpenter' was returned before the teacher spoke again.

"We have a new student with us today." A young man with slightly curly, brown hair stood at the front of the class. 

“This is Aleksandre, he’s just moved here from New York. Welcome to Aglionby.” Mr. Carpenter patted the young Prokopenko’s back. Aleksandre gave an uneasy smile and took an empty seat next to a boy wearing sunglasses. Why the fuck was he wearing sunglasses inside? What an edgelord.

Prokopenko shook his head, taking a sharpie out of his pocket and looking at his blank arms. He began doodling little sunglasses on his arm along with some trees and swirly patterns. 

After a while, Aleksandre looked up, glancing at the boy next to him. He was fast asleep, his dark hair mostly pushed back under a white snapback hat. He still had the stupid sunglasses on. The boy’s uniform was rumpled and unclean and Aleksandre swore he could smell weed on him. Aleksandre just rolled his eyes.

The bell shrilled loud and the boy next to Aleksandre jolted awake. He could see the boy blinking, dazed. He saw the boy flip his sunglasses up on his head.

Oh.

THAT was why he was wearing sunglasses.

The boy had a dark purple bruise around his eye and a cut on his other eyebrow. Alek tried not to stare, but this morning he’d woken with a small mark on his eyebrow and exceptionally dark sleep-eyebags under his right eye. No way. This couldn’t be his soulmate. He pushed the thoughts out of his head, collecting his things into his bag and stood.

Then the kid rolled up his sleeves. There were the dark mini sunglasses and trees from today and the faded swirly shapes from the car yesterday. The boy didn't look at him, walking out of the classroom with a nonchalant bravado of a stuck-up rich kid.

Fuck.


End file.
